Seconds
by allonsysilvertongue
Summary: "As brave as he tried to be, as enthusiastic as he was about helping those in need and as eager as he was to please his mentor, Peter Parker was just a teenager." A collective series of Tony Stark's mentor/protege relationship with Peter Parker. [[Endgame Spoilers]]
1. Seconds

This one-shot contains spoilers from Infinity War.

 **Seconds**

Tony Stark was still reeling from the feel of a blade piercing through his mid-section and of Thanos' taunt – _I hope they remember you._ He was still reeling from Stephen Strange choosing to trade his life for the time stone he had sworn to protect.

He was still reeling from what he had just witnessed.

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good."

At the sound of the voice – small, uncertain, _fearful_ – Tony turned. His face paled considerably. He had just seconds ago seen Quill turned to ashes. He had seen the same thing happened to Strange, and he _knew_ what was about to happen to the kid.

"You're alright," he lied.

He wanted to believe it too, _desperately._

Tony stepped forward, in a shock, to assess the kid. He was still intact. _Good_ , he thought, clawing at whatever hope he still had that the kid would be spared. Except… This was Peter Parker. His heightened senses must have alerted him to the fact that something was not right.

Peter stumbled unsteadily, as if his legs could no longer support him and collapsed in Tony's arms. He winced from the blinding pain that shot up his upper body.

 _No, no_ , the thoughts raced wildly in his mind. _Not this kid._

"I don't want to go. I don't want to go, Mr. Stark, please," Peter sob and pleaded, clutching on to him like he was a lifeline. "Please, I don't want to go."

Tony fell on his knees, the kid still held tight in his arms. The pain was too much. The ache in his heart from Peter's desperate pleas was almost enough to mask the sharp throb from the stab wound.

He wanted to say something – that he was proud of him, that he was _sorry_ , that he would fix this and get him home – but the words were stuck. He should have never encouraged the kid. He should have never initiated him into the Avengers; should have never allowed him to stay on the space ship; should have sent him back to New York with his aunt.

Peter looked at him then, a final glance. His gaze was quiet and soft and _calm_ , as if he could sense the turmoil in Tony's mind and was doing his best to not add to the panic. Even at his last moments, the kid was still trying to please him.

Half of Peter's arm was already gone and there was nothing Tony could do to stop it or slow it down.

 _He should have stayed on the bus._

The sense of helplessness was overbearing. He had sworn in that cave, a lifetime ago, that he would never allow himself to feel this way ever again. The reality, however, was difficult to swallow. They had lost. Thanos' victory had extracted a terrible cost from them. It was costing him Peter – the kid whom he spent nights designing suits for just to ensure that whatever heroic things Peter wanted to get up to in his little neighbourhood, he would be safe doing it.

"Sir," Peter whispered.

None of that mattered now. No suit Tony Stark designed could stop this from happening. Peter was disintegrating into nothing but ashes.

 _Not him_ , Tony wanted to scream, touching Peter's chest only to connect with the boulder underneath it.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, unable to believe that just _seconds_ ago he could touch and hold Peter. Just seconds ago, the boy was solid and _alive_.

"He did it," Nebula said behind him.

Throughout his life, Tony had seen countless things that should have shocked him but nothing quite like this. Peter was a pain in his ass but there was something about that kid… He had crawled under his skin and found a way into his heart just as Pepper had done.

Tony sat, defeated, his palms clasped together.

He never told Pepper any of it but the dreams he had about having a kid did not just happen once. It had happened ever since Peter.

He was responsible for that kid and he was gone, and for the first time since his parents' death, Tony Stark felt lost.


	2. Aftermath

_I did not want to create a new story so I posted this one shot here. It might be a collective series of one-shot should I plan to continue writing to cope with my feels. But in the mean time, have more Peter & Tony._

* * *

 **Aftermath**

If Titan was desolate, Earth was filled with chaos, panic and confusion. The surviving population grappled to understand the reality of what just occurred. Governments were scrambling to install some peace within its civilian population while holding emergency elections all around.

All of that became just another aftermath scene, another background noise for Tony. He was secluded in the compound, held there for five days and three hours since his return from Titan. Being back at the compound, a place that was meant to be familiar and _safe_ , felt jarring more than anything else.

It felt _empty_.

Since the falling out after the Accords, the compound had been a little quieter but it hadn't bothered Tony that much. He knew that Steve and the others were out there somewhere. He knew that if they were pardoned, they could return but this wasn't the case anymore.

Half of the Avengers were gone.

Steve returned, if only because there was nowhere else to go and because in light of recent events it was imperative that they all stick together. He walked the halls grim-faced and lost in his own thoughts, his steps heavy and burdened.

They had all lost someone – a friend, an acquaintance, a team member – but Tony and Steve seemed the most broken. _That_ was left unspoken and unacknowledged, and Tony said nothing when it became obvious that between Clint, Natasha, Bruce and Rhodey, they had taken the task of keeping an eye on Steve and himself.

It was their way to try and hold the pillars of the Avengers together, difficult as it was when grief enveloped the place so heavily. Thor came and gone between dimensions, working to bring those who survived in the other realms together.

Bruce and Rhodey had been the ones to be by Tony's side when he regained consciousness from surgery. Bruce had asked about Peter but there was only so much he could say before he choked on his words and the guilt came bubbling in. Tony could never – would never – forget holding the kid in his arms and feeling his weight lessen by the second as he slowly disintegrated. He would never forget the sense of helplessness he felt.

"Leaving?"

Steve's voice stopped him cold.

"There's some place I need to be," he answered, his fingers toying with his sunglasses.

He glanced once over his shoulder to look at Steve and waited for the rebuke or the disapproval but the man merely nodded.

Standing just below the apartment building, Tony took a deep breath. His steps were slow and careful, mindful of his injury. It was not hurting him, merely a bother.

The door to the apartment opened easily enough.

"May?" he called out.

Of course, Tony had tried to call her the moment he entered Earth's atmosphere. He had instructed Friday to get in touch with her moments before he underwent surgery but it had all been in vain. He came to the definitive conclusion – she was gone.

Still, he had to try. He would give anything right now for that woman to come barreling out of the kitchen to shout and scream at him or to blame him but the apartment was deadly silent.

Tony veered to the left, walking down a familiar hallway before entering Peter's room.

It was ironic, he mused, that so much had happened and yet, everything stayed exactly the way it was. This room was _normal_. It reflected none of the catastrophe, the destruction, the death.

Peter's room looked clean and neat but Tony wasn't deceived. He was sure that if he were to yank open the door to that one particular wardrobe, clothes would spill out. If he were to check under the bed, he might find pieces of old tech. His gaze was drawn to the Lego Millennium Falcon proudly displayed on the desk.

Tony bit his clenched fist, forcing himself to take in a deep shaky breath.

He was just a kid. He was barely seventeen years old and had an entire life waiting for him. As brave as he tried to be, as enthusiastic as he was about helping those in need and as eager as he was to please his mentor, Peter Parker was just a teenager.

And it showed in his room.

Tony approached the desk where the Millennium Falcon sat. The kid's math homework laid opened as if he was working on it the night before the school trip and was planning on finishing it once he returned home from school.

That never happened. Peter ended up in space, onboard Squiward's space ship. Peter ended up turned to ashes.

This one simple thing, this small inconsequential detail of Peter's unfinished homework sent a jolt of pain through Tony's heart.

He took down the framed photo on the wall of a young Peter Parker during his middle school graduation.

 _For the funeral_ , he suddenly remembered.

There were talks of conducting funerals for all their fallen comrades and the thought of holding a funeral for Peter….

It was too much.

Tony collapsed on Peter's bed. His chest felt constricted and he struggled to breathe. For the first time since Titan, he allowed himself to mourn for the loss of a kid who looked up to him in nothing but awe and respect, a kid whom he loved. In that small apartment, in his protégé's bedroom, the tears fell.


	3. Making Sure

**Making Sure**

 _The surviving Avengers managed to defeat Thanos with those trapped in the Soul Stone now released and well, but Tony still had nightmares._

Tony woke with a jerk, the covers pooled around his waist. His breathing was labored, his eyes darting wildly. He stared at his hands, turning his palms this way and that. They were clean, not streak with dirt or worst, _ashes._

Next to him, Pepper stirred. She blinked, slowly pushing herself up.

"You are in New York," she whispered soothingly, rubbing her hand up and down his arm in a comforting gesture.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He was in New York, next to Pepper. He wasn't stranded in Titan, surrounded by deaths.

He was safe.

Yet, he couldn't seem to slow down the erratic beating of his heart or stop his fingers from pinching his palm in anxiety.

Tony forced a smile on his face, made a joke about nature calling at odd hours before he kissed Pepper's forehead and pulled the covers up to under her chin.

He left their room, walking quietly down the hallways of the compound until he found himself in front of the Entertainment Room. The lights were on and soft, deep chuckles could be heard coming from within. Stepping into the threshold, he saw Steve there with a beer in hand, laughing with Wilson and Barnes.

His gaze lingered on the two men. Their very presence was testament to the fact that it was just a nightmare and there wasn't anything to be worried about. Except, Tony Stark often led his life waiting for the other shoe to drop and even if the ragtag team of survivors had managed to undo Thanos' victory and brought the souls trapped in the world back, he still couldn't help but be cautious.

"Late night, huh?" Tony asked, leaning against the door frame.

The three of them turned in unison. Wilson tossed a beer in his direction.

"A lot to catch up on," Falcon said.

Tony nodded. They had all been brought back three days ago, and he imagined after defeating Thanos, the three men would have interesting anecdotes to exchange, especially those two trapped in the soul world. Steve looked battle-weary – they all were – but his eyes were brighter and alive, and it was a nice change to see.

"See you guys tomorrow," Tony raised a hand in farewell. "I have something to check on."

Outside of the compound, the night was quiet and serene. Tony took a minute to breathe that in, trying to bask in this hard won peace. When he opened his eyes, he tapped twice on the center piece in his chest and the armour suited him up in seconds. Then he was in the air, flying towards Queens.

The streets below were busy even in the night. The lamps lighted up every street until he came upon a familiar neighbourhood. Locating that specific window in that particular apartment building was easy. Tony approached and even before he was near enough to be able to be heard, the kid was already sliding the window open.

"Mr. Stark?"

Just the sight of Peter peering at him with half his body out of the window made Tony breathed out in relief.

 _He's alive._

Logically, after seeing Wilson and Barnes, Tony was certain the kid was safe at home but he had to see it for himself. He had that niggling fear, a building anxiety that something might have happened and the only way he could silence the worry was to be able to see the kid.

Of course, he would feel a lot better and he wouldn't have to take this trip to Queens if Peter could just move into a room in the compound. Peter would be close by and he would be safe. That was paramount to Tony – the kid's safety.

"Hey, kid, was just around the neighbourhood," he said the second the mask retreated from his face.

"Oh," Peter blinked. "I – I thought that – "

"No, no, nothing's happened. All's good. The world is safe."

It was plain to see that Peter was traumatised. From what he had gathered as Peter stuttered and stammered trying to communicate his experience as he clung to Tony the moment he got the boy back, he had spent days alone trapped in the soul stone before Doctor Strange found him. Days spent in worry, confusion, anguish and fear.

"That's good," Peter nodded. "It's just – you're in your suit and I thought… Nevermind."

"Dinner tomorrow at the compound – it's an Avenger thing," Tony told him out of the blue. "I'll send a car."

If the kid couldn't move into the compound just yet, then he sure as hell could make certain that the kid would still be a regular face there. Regardless of Tony's countless technologies at his disposal to keep an eye on Peter, ever since the kid died in his arms, he felt the need to actually have him physically nearby.

It was indescribable, something he felt deep within himself. It felt instinctive – a need to keep what was his safe. Even if it wasn't something they acknowledge, the kid was as good as his own. He just hoped that this overwhelming protective feeling would slowly ease away given time. In the meantime, he already had plans to upgrade Peter's Iron Spider armour.


	4. Sorry Doesnt Cut It

_Tony Stark reflects on Peter's last words_

 **Sorry doesn't cut it**

His fingers twitched and next to him, the heart monitor registered a spike in heart rate.

"Sir," FRIDAY's voice filled the room.

Tony jerked awake, his breathing labored.

 _I'm sorry._

His gaze roamed the hospital room in the Avenger's Facility, taking in the sight of Steve Rogers sleeping on the chair next to his bed. The last thing Tony remembered before he was administered his nightly medication was having a talk with Steve on the events in Wakanda.

 _I'm sorry._

Tony pressed the heels of his palm to his forehead, willing the voice in his head to quiet down; Peter's voice, Peter's last words.

"Are you alright?"

Tony turned to see Steve, now awake, watching him.

"Yeah, yeah," he nodded. "Don't fall asleep here - crick," Tony tapped the back of his neck. "Get some rest somewhere comfortable."

Yet, Steve remained, his gaze trained on him.

"I'm fine," Tony insisted.

With Steve gone, the room became strangely desolate. It made him feel the way he felt at Titan. It was a mistake – if Cap had wanted to sleep in that chair, he should have let him.

 _I don't want to go. I'm sorry._

There it was again - the voice; begging and pleading. Tony squeezed his eyes shut.

Peter's apology, right before he died, had bothered Tony immensely. He understood Peter pleading for his life – the kid was scared. But apologising? And especially to him of all people….

The memory of Peter holding his stomach and stumbling into Tony's arms had played in his mind a thousand times and it had kept him awake at night. He could never look at his hands without having flashbacks of Peter, a kid he was responsible for, disintegrating into ashes.

And his last words...

What was the kid apologising for?

Tony grunted, falling back into bed. If anyone should apologise, it was him. He was the adult in the situation and he should have done a lot more. He should have been firmer and sent Peter back on the ground, not allowing him to stay onboard and knighting him to be an Avenger.

He lasted a day as an Avenger, Tony realised with a start. If it was anyone's fault it was his and -

 _Oh._

Tony blinked, suddenly recalling a conversation from months before as Peter watched the rescue on the Staten Island Ferry.

 _"If you died, I feel like that's on me."_

Peter must have remembered that. The kid had never forgotten the reprimand he received that day on the roof top. Tony had been harsh but it was for his own good.

And as Peter clutched on to Tony like a lifeline at Titan, he knew right then that this time his mentor could not fix it. He knew he was dying so he had apologized to let Tony know it wasn't on him.

 _God damn it, Pete_ , Tony slammed the back of his head on the pillow.

He took a shuddering breath. Peter had always been so enthusiastic for the next mission, eager to help. The kid had so much heart in him and Tony had done everything he could to protect him – installed every safety precautions he could think of in his spider suit, thought of the Training Wheels Protocol so the kid, unlike him, could have actual training, insisted Happy run point and keep an eye on him – and yet, in the end, it didn't even matter.

He lost him anyway.

"I'm sorry, kid."


	5. Burden of a Parent

_I have always been writing from Tony's POV so time to switch it up! I don't really read the comics so whatever I wrote, it's from the MCU movies and this is what I imagine is like post-thanos snapping his fingers for those who didn't survive._

* * *

 **Burden of A Parent**

There was a fleeting moment after he blinked awake when Peter felt _whole_ again before it disappeared the moment he remembered. He surveyed his surroundings, checked that there were still ten fingers and toes, tested his motor functions, jumped up and down and pressed his fingers on his face.

All of him was here but hadn't he disintegrated?

Was that all a dream?

Yet, something felt different – not bad different, an unexplainable sort of different. He felt as if his entire being was _hovering_ , as if he was here and yet, not. He wasn't alone, there were other people here. None of them was familiar to him so he walked. Peter travelled for what seemed like days but time, he began to notice, was different too.

Everything was different here.

 _Where is here?_ He wondered that out loud as he walked.

Nobody he asked could give him an answer but sinners and saints they were all in the same place. He felt desolate, alone and confused.

"Mr. Parker."

Peter swiveled at the sound of his name and nearly stumbled on his feet to approach the man. His heart was soaring. _Finally_.

"Dr. Strange," he breathed out. "I'm so glad to see you. Where – Where are we? Where is Mr. Stark?"

"He is not here," Dr. Strange answered and Peter thought it odd that he sounded quite confident when there were thousands, maybe millions of them, here. Maybe they just haven't found him. "What is the last thing you remembered?"

 _Other than falling apart…?_ Peter wanted to ask but thought better.

"I – uh -" he scrunched his face. "Mr. Stark was there and I – "

He had apologised. He remembered knowing and feeling that he had reached the end of his line, and he had apologised.

"Are we dead?"

It had been bothering him. He didn't feel dead. Or at least, he didn't think death was supposed to be this way.

"Not quite," Dr. Strange replied, still in that calm voice and Peter didn't think he was going to get more of an answer from him.

Peter wandered sometime, around New York.

It was weird, he thought, that wherever they were, it somewhat still looked like home. The bodega was still there. His school was still there.

Dr. Strange had told him that it was a tether, a central pull to something familiar.

This half of the population, they were existing at some place different. Peter had heard several varying theories that tied with the six individual stones working together to create _here_ – different pocket of dimension, different plane of existence, a world where souls dwells, different reality where time worked differently – but none of it mattered to him. At the end of the day, he was still here, unable to interact with anyone who had survived.

He hovered between his existence and theirs, stuck in a limbo.

One day, Peter wandered upstate.

Before he knew it, he was staring up at the Avenger's Facility in the same awestruck expression when he first came by with Happy.

"You hear them?"

Peter shook his head.

"Pay attention," Bucky said, clasping his shoulder. He pushed Peter forward slightly as he tilted his head. "And you'll hear."

Curious, Peter asked, "Who do you hear?"

"Steve," the man replied, clenching his jaws. "You've got those heightened senses, right? Should be easier for you…"

It intrigued him so Peter spent his time loitering around the compound trying to focus on hearing something, much to Dr. Strange's chagrin.

Then one day it happened.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter started, shocked.

He was sure he had just heard the old man. That was Mr. Stark's voice.

"FRI -" the voice wavered out of range. "Dim the – FRIDAY."

Peter gave out a bark of laughter. For the first time since he came to be here, he felt something akin to joy blooming in his chest.

The more he focused and listened in, gleaning bits and pieces of conversations, he began to piece it together.

While Peter might feel like he had been here for an eternity, the events were still quite recent for those who survived. He gathered that Mr. Stark was in the hospital, recovering. He heard Captain America visiting him in the hospital room at times. There were other visitors as well, but he couldn't identify who they were, not from voice alone. Dr. Banner, he assumed was one of them.

 _At least the Avengers made it,_ he smiled.

The first time Peter sensed Tony Stark, his heart nearly gave out. He hadn't heard the old man but he sensed his approaching presence.

"Something's happening," he more than hop in excitement in front of Dr Strange as he shared his experience.

He thought maybe, just maybe, the barrier that separated him from the survivors were thinning and they would all make it out of there.

Then Peter began to realise that with the ability to sense came the burden of knowledge.

 _"Just a kid, Banner,"_ Peter heard _and_ felt this terrible feeling in his chest, something dark and heavy, something akin to guilt. _"… shouldn't be there…. Couldn't protect…"_

His mentor was grieving. Tony was mourning and _his_ name – Peter – passed his lips more often than not.

 _Peter's suit._

 _Peter's apartment._

 _Peter's photo._

 _The kid's this, the kid's that._

 _Funeral._

Peter gasped, and bolted as fast as he could to Dr. Strange. Even distance seemed to be a blur here.

Stephen Strange was meditating when with an apology, Peter shook him.

"They are planning funerals," he breathed out. "We _are_ dead."

"I doubt that very much."

"What? The funeral or that we are dead? We aren't dead, are we? I don't feel it."

Dr. Strange fixed him with a look.

"How does dead feels like, Mr. Parker?"

"Well, I don't know," Peter threw both hands up. Sometimes, talking to this wizard could be exasperating, more so than talking to Mr. Stark.

"It is strange how we went," Dr. Strange said, more to himself. "This could be our soul."

"What?" Peter frowned. While he didn't really feel solid, he had seen enough horror stories to know he definitely wasn't a ghost. He touched his hand and it did not phase through. "It doesn't matter. We're _here_. They could just… if they could just come and get us. There shouldn't be any funerals. All these people, they're _not_ dead," Peter insisted.

"It is not that easy, Peter. Those who survive, they will have to find a way. Thanos needs to be defeated and those stones… they will have to understand each stones. All the stones together -"

"Erased half the universe," Peter interrupted. "You don't understand. Mr. Stark – "

"Tony will figure out a way. He has to. I ensured his survival for this reason."

Peter tilted his head.

"Dr. Strange, I think he is blaming himself for what happened… for failing to save the world, to save me."

The wizard stood there looking at him but offered no words of comfort. Peter didn't think it was in his nature either way.

"I – I just wished there's a way for me to tell him that I don't blame him. I made my choice to stay with him on that ship."

"He still feels responsible for you, no matter what choices you made," Dr. Strange said. "That is the burden of a parent."

"I'm sorry?"

"Surely it is obvious? He cares about you as you do about him."

"Yes but – "

"Sometimes family is an aunt and a quick witted snarky billionaire, Mr. Parker. Not often does blood have to be a factor."

He had always thought highly of Mr. Stark, had admired him since he was a young boy. He had lost his parents and his Uncle Ben, and Mr. Stark was the only other person aside from Aunt May who truly looked out for him. Often, he felt he might be a bother to the old man, always asking about his next mission, hacking the multi-million suit that Mr. Stark had given to him and being all around stubborn. He always feared that one day, Mr. Stark might draw the line and leave. Peter just never imagined that it was _him_ who left.

If he could only communicate … let him know that he was here…

Despondent, Peter slid to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest. He propped his chin on his knees, looking miserably into the distance.

"I wanted to be like him," Peter spoke. "He wanted me to be better and I – I keep trying to every day. Do you think it's too late now?"

"Don't despair, Mr Parker."


	6. Coping

_Tony and May had a talk_

* * *

 **Coping**

At some point, Tony tuned out everything else except the feel of dirt and ash on his hand. He pushed away the glaring problem – he was stranded on an alien planet – and focused on just trying to _breathe_.

The voice in his head was so loud – Peter's voice, afraid and desperate about wanting to stay.

Still, at some point, Tony became vaguely aware of a pair of arms hauling him to his feet. He felt fingers prodding the stab wound and inspecting it. He felt himself fall on something hard and metallic, and his gaze strayed around taking in the fact that he was in a piece of junk that this woman told him was a space ship.

 _Woman? Alien?_ _Robot?_

He wasn't sure and he didn't think he cared much at this point. He didn't even care that if this went on, he would likely sustain a whiplash from the trip or better still, die.

Death, he figured, didn't sound so bad.

He would welcome it, in fact. The oblivion would be sweet and eventually, he would learn to feel at home in the darkness. He imagined Peter, dead and lifeless, consumed by an ever growing darkness.

His throat constricted and he found himself gasping for air.

"Breathe, Stark. You don't get to die on me."

Witnessing the deaths and then surviving it was _painful_. He had this recurring nightmare for years and to live through it….

The space ship hurtled through and Tony lurched forward before it became steady once more, not that the noise the engine was making filled him with ease.

"We are on Earth," the blue-being informed him.

Tony blinked at that information.

"Who are you?" he asked, finally raising his head to focus on her.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, eyes narrowing at the question before she sighed and then her entire stance softened.

"Nebula," she answered.

It sounded familiar now which meant that she must have told him somewhere before or during their journey but he was still cloaked in a haze to register.

She asked for directions – where to fly, where is safe, where to land and who to trust – and he provided her the answers the best he could. Tony closed his eyes, finally feeling the exhaustion crept in only to be startled awake when Nebula kicked his foot.

"Don't sleep," she warned. "You might not wake up."

 _That's the plan_ , he wanted to tell her but even speaking required a certain amount of effort he didn't have the energy to spare.

The spaceship rumbled and Tony took a moment to actually appreciate the fact that they survived the trip. They landed on the front yard of the Avengers Facility, and the grass patch there would burn, he knew. Nebula slung his arm over her shoulder and helped him down the ship as Tony gestured vaguely towards the direction of the compound.

Cap strode forward; grasped Tony's other arm to ensure he stood upright and eased Nebula from having to bear his whole weight.

"Tony," Cap greeted.

Tony raised his head and for the first time after a long while, they locked eyes.

"Cap," he nodded. "Found your old room, did you?"

He ignored the jibe. "I'm glad you made it, Tony," Steve said.

"Who else… Who else made it?" Tony struggled to get the words out.

His breathing was becoming ragged by the minute and the pain from his side was becoming worst.

He heard Steve inhaled sharply at his question.

"The Avengers – the six of us, we're all here. Nat is getting Clint to come over. Ms. Potts is inside – she's worried," Steve told him.

"Pepper," he breathed out.

As he swam in and out of focus on that spaceship, he had thought of Pepper, scared to death to actually know the truth if she had survived or shared Peter's fate. But she was here, she survived and some of the pressure lifted from his chest. He didn't think he could take it if he lost Pepper too.

"Banner caught me up. None of us knew if you'd make it out of that space planet."

"Shit," Tony cursed suddenly, startling them both.

Steve stopped abruptly while Nebula threw them both a look.

"The kid," he said. "He's got an aunt. I need to – "

He jerked his leg, as if to turn back around.

"I need a suit," he declared. "I'll get there faster."

"You need the hospital," Cap countered firmly.

"If she survived, she'd want to know," Tony insisted despite the blinding pain he was trying hard to mask. "Just like Pepper would want to know about me. Just like anyone who's got someone they love would want to know. Let me go, Steve."

"You'll bleed out to death," Nebula frowned. "I didn't get you from Titan to Earth only for you to die here, Stark."

He tried to argue but at that exact moment, a tremor ran through his body and he doubled in pain, only managing not to crumple to the ground because of Steve and Nebula. Between the two of them, they easily managed to get him to the hospital in the compound.

The last thing he remembered was staring at lights so bright and blinding before his mouth and nose was covered with an oxygen mask as Pepper held his hand and told him not to fight it.

He gave in to the unconsciousness, and stayed there in a place where his mind was free and his body was weightless.

When he woke up, Pepper was there next to him.

"I don't want to spring this on you so soon but it's important. There's someone here to see you and I think you might want to see her too," Pepper told him softly and placed a kiss his cheek.

May walked in and to Tony, she had seen better days. Her eyes were red and swollen, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

 _She's been crying_ , his brain supplied

"May," he spoke her name gently, as if that would soften the blow of whatever it was to come.

She sat on the chair next to his bed, hands bundled together and eyes glassy.

"The – uh – there was a lady… A blue lady," her brows crinkled, as if still trying to wrap her head around that, "she was… She told me she saw spider – Peter. She saw Peter on that – that planet. She told me what happened."

Tony exhaled shakily. He had wanted to be the one to tell her. He owed it to her, if nothing else.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"How was it supposed to be?" she asked, forcing a small smile on her face. "Peter could never sit by when others was in danger."

Tony frowned. He was waiting for the blame to come swinging his way, for her to scream at him, to hit him and to tell him that Peter was just a kid who should have stayed at home like she had done when she found out what 'internship' really meant or that he had been the one to give Peter an upgraded suit. It had been hell then, and Peter had watched from where he stood behind May, wide-eyed and in shocked. Tony never thought that petite woman could scream but boy, did he learn his lesson that day.

"Were you there with him until the very end, Mr. Stark?"

"Tony," he offered immediately. "Yes… I was."

 _I held him as he turned to ash_ was left unsaid. It wasn't something she needed to know. He kept Peter's last pleas and his last words to himself. That memory was his burden to bear, not for May to know and be haunted with.

"I saw it on the news," May started talking. "I saw Peter in his spider suit heading straight for that _… thing,_ " she spat. "I was – I was terrified."

Tony realised then he could somewhat relate because he felt that way when he knew Peter was clinging to the side of the space ship and finding it difficult to breathe as it climbed higher, but once again, he kept it to himself. He had always been hyper-verbal but with May mourning, someone needed to be there to listen. It wasn't like he had anything comforting to offer except his presence and to answer whatever questions she needed to know.

"I didn't know what to do. It wasn't something you could report to the police about," she fretted. "It wasn't something the police could help me with. I was worried to death – a part of New York was in ruins and my nephew was gone. I thought that was the worst of it…" May scoffed. "Then it started to happen…"

"May, I should have -"

"I had to distract myself from worrying about Peter," she went on as if she had not heard Tony speak, "so I went to the supermarket to get started on dinner – can you believe it? _dinner_ \- and then people just started disintegrating. They turned to ash, just like that. I was horrified, of course, but I thought – maybe it was a good thing Peter wasn't around. Maybe he is spared from all that, wherever he is."

She paused seemingly to collect her thoughts but she choked on her next word and it turned into sobs that wrecked her body. Tony stared, stunned before he moved into action. He shuffled slowly until he could maneuver himself into the seat next to her and draped his arm around her. He drew her close. He didn't try to tell her that it was going to be alright like he had done with Peter. He was aware that it was _never_ going to be alright. The pain and the gaping hole left behind when you lose someone could never truly heal. And May had loved and raised the kid… The pain she must be feeling…

"He looked up to you," she said suddenly, in between sobs. "Ever since he was a child… He was always quiet and spent his time alone, you were the hero he needed growing up. He had some of the same fears other kids had – monsters in the closet and thunderstorms – but he always had you, in a way. He kept an Iron Man toy in the closet and told me that no monster will come with you protecting his closet. He was so adorable then."

Despite the situation, Tony smiled at that image. He would have loved to meet that young Peter Parker.

"For his eleventh birthday, I gave him an Iron Man helmet so he could use it when riding his bicycle. He wore it even at home. It made me so frustrated. I regretted getting him that. He never misses your press conferences, never."

"It sounds like he had a good childhood," he remarked.

"I hope he did," May sniffled. "He wouldn't stop talking about you, especially after you came to the house. Lately, it was all about not disappointing you. The way a -," she paused, like it had suddenly just dawned on her, "- a child would never want to disappoint his father."

That was the last thing he expected to hear and it felt like a stab through his heart. Tony squeezed his eyes shut. On the rooftop after the incident with the Staten Island Ferry, he had lectured the kid like his father had lectured him. He had tried to praise and commend the kid in a way his father never had. Maybe, in a way, he was a father figure to Peter.

"He grew on me," Tony managed to say.

May lifted her head and for a long time, she watched him.

"I hope you loved him the way he clearly adored you."

"Yeah," Tony nodded and with a quiet certainty, he said, "I do."


	7. So Many Roads

_This can be read after 'Coping' but can also work as a stand-alone._

* * *

 **So Many Roads**

Once the dust had settled, Tony spent most of his time in his workshop. There was an upgrade on the Bleeding Edge Armour that needed to be done and plenty of tinkering with suits he already had in his arsenals just to be prepared for what was to come because something was coming. Or rather, he was going to bring the something _to_ Thanos, wherever the hell the bastard maybe, even if it was the last thing he did.

He supposed, at the end of the day, he was grieving and like he had mourned over his parents' death by throwing himself into his work, this was his way to process his grief over a kid he had let crawled under his skin and into his heart, a group of ragtag space protectors he had fought together with and a wizard he barely knew who had given up the one thing he swore to protect for Tony's life. That bit of fact was something Tony kept revisiting because he was certain Strange was trying to tell him _something_.

It wasn't a healthy way to cope but it was either he occupied his mind and time or he let himself break apart, and the latter wasn't an option. It was never an option.

"Mr. Stark?" a voice called out softly.

The voice carried with it the same inflection while calling out his name that for a second, his breath hitched. He raised his head, looking up from his work to see May standing at the door to his workshop.

"I hope I'm not interrupting. Ms. Potts told me you'd be here," she told him and came in without waiting for Tony to invite her, not that he would have chased her out otherwise. "I brought food."

Tony smiled and proceeded to clear his work station to make space.

This wasn't the first time May had dropped by the compound. Tony had never questioned her simply because the way May was his last connection to Peter, he was the same to her. They were both devastated by Peter's death and they had both loved Peter the way the kid had loved them.

"Hm, Thai…" Tony remarked.

"Peter's favourite…"

"Of course," Tony nodded. "Three of everything?"

"The third portion was meant for Ms. Potts but it seemed that she couldn't stay. Something about a meeting…"

"Oh, yeah," Tony nodded now that he had just remembered. With half of the Board of Directors gone, Pepper had to reshuffle and reorganize the company. "We'll keep it for her… She might want to have Thai for dinner. Our chef's gone…"

There usually wasn't much talking. Unlike Peter who could talk a mile an hour, his aunt was much more subdued.

Once, May had visited with a photo album she found when she was cleaning the apartment and she had wanted to share it with him. They got through to when Peter was five before Tony could no longer hide the tremor in his hand or the way he was finding it difficult to draw air.

"Sir, you are experiencing an elevated heart rate," FRIDAY had chimed in.

"Yeah, I noticed," he muttered, trying to keep his breathing under control all the while aware of May watching him.

But her shock wore off and she had rested a hand on his shoulder while gently guiding him through his breathing. It made him wonder for a wild moment if she knew to do this because Peter had had nightmares. She kept repeating that he would be alright even as his mind told him that it wouldn't, not with so many people gone. She stayed until he had himself under control and had then apologised profusely. He had waved it away because until that incident, neither of them knew Peter's photos could be a trigger. It had brought her comfort to go through the photographs but to Tony, it was just a reminder of the boy he couldn't save.

From then on, May now usually came bearing food once she realised that he often forgo meals while working and that as much as Pepper tried to be around and assist him, she was also running around trying to juggle both Tony and the company. Tony figured it gave May something to do anyway. She must be lonely in that apartment and to be honest, he couldn't imagine living in an apartment where he could see reminders of the kid he lost at every corner.

Besides, he didn't mind her company so much. Now, if only she could just remember to call him Tony instead of Mr. Stark because she sounded too much like Peter.

"Is that a spider suit?"

Tony blinked and then glanced to his left. _Shit,_ he cursed. She wasn't supposed to see that.

"Uh -" shoved the basil chicken in his mouth to buy him a little bit of time. "You know, just in case -" he stopped abruptly before he could say too much.

"In case of what?"

He gritted his teeth, annoyed at himself. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want to give her hope in case they were all wrong.

"Nothing, May," he waved his hand. "Something for me to remember the kid…"

Thor had something about souls trapped in the soul world and add that to Strange's cryptic message, the Avengers had hoped that those they lost were gone, _not_ dead. Gone implied that they could actually be found and that was exactly what Tony intended to do – find Peter and bring him back, and that suit was for Peter's protection. It was designed specifically to protect the boy.

"If there is anything, you will tell me, wouldn't you?" May asked, looking at him.

He leveled his gaze with her. Eventually, Tony nodded.

"Good."

They finished their meal with May informing him of the plans to demolish some of the residential building in Queens – "too many empty homes now". _That_ made Tony break his silence.

"I don't think he's _dead_ , May," he said, his gaze shifted from her down to the table and back to her again. "I – I'm going to try and fix this. Not sure how yet but we're all trying."

If May was stunned by that sudden proclamation, she didn't let on. Instead she reminded him, "We had a funeral for him, Mr. Stark."

"Tony," he countered for the umpteenth time.

Her eyes darkened and her nostrils flared. Tony was sure she would lose her temper right then but she held her composure.

"If you believe that, then it is your prerogative. I can't afford to think that he is still out there, not when I've buried him."

It was an empty coffin, he wanted to say but held his tongue. It wouldn't change anything anyway.

"Hope can be a dangerous thing," May whispered. "I don't want to – I _can't_ – hold out on that and have my heart shattered again when he doesn't come back, when you fail. Let me mourn him and try to move on."

Tony frowned.

Was it easier to think of Peter as dead?

Maybe for her…

He reached and squeezed her hand. She loved Peter and to think that he is still alive but trapped somewhere would be torturous for her, especially when she couldn't do anything to save him but Tony…. It was different for him. The Avengers, they could do something.

So as long as there is any sliver of hope that the kid is still out there, he would fight to get Peter home.


	8. Two of Us

_So.. Endgame ended me. I haven't written anything for months but this happened. _Had to deal with the emotions somehow. This is a spoilery fic so please don't read if you haven't seen the movie.__

 _It's Peter and Morgan at the funeral._

 **Two of Us.**

Five years was long time to be away.

The world as he knew it was different and yet, the same.

The ones who were gone, the ones like him, had tried to pick up where they left off. With half of the population doing that, it gave the illusion as if everything was the same.

But things _had_ changed.

Morgan Stark holding on to his hand was one such testament to that. Truth be told, he didn't really know what to do or how to act with the girl. Peter's exposure to children was limited to the ones who stopped him on the street as Spiderman to say hello and take a selfie. He never actually had to babysit a child before but Ms Potts – _Mrs Stark_ , he reminded himself – was getting the wreath ready, claiming there was something else she needed to make it complete. Happy was running point and ensuring that things were in order while Rhodey…. He looked around, searching for the man. Rhodey was outside at the porch talking to Steve Rogers.

So here he was with little Morgan Stark who looked so much like her dad that Peter was having trouble trying to remain compose.

He doubted she truly understood what was going on around her but she was well behaved, waiting there quietly and patiently with him, a boy she barely knew. His gaze trailed down to her and his heart ached. She was so small and innocent, and so fragile.

Peter knew what it was like to lose a parent at such a young age and to grow up without a father's guidance. She was a child with only five years' worth of memories of her dad.

 _Or perhaps lesser,_ Peter mused. He had read somewhere that the earliest memory one can access was at the age of two.

He wanted to say something, anything at all to comfort her but he grappled to find the right words. In the end, he sighed loudly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft.

Peter looked down, forced himself to smile a little.

"Uh, nothing. You need anything, little one?"

"No," Morgan shook her head and Peter thought she was the cutest little girl he had ever seen. "Are you here to see daddy, too? I miss daddy."

"Me too, Morgan," Peter answered without missing a beat. _Not daddy but Mr. Stark,_ he wanted to say when she raised her head at him a little confused, but he settled for, "I miss him, too."

Everything was odd. He still felt as if he wasn't back in his own skin, as if a part of him was stuck in … wherever he was when Thanos snapped his fingers. He was having trouble trying to reconcile that years had passed here and that during that time, people had grieved and tried to move on.

To him, it felt as if he had _just_ met Mr. Stark not too long ago; as if the dressed down he received from his mentor after the ferry incident was just recently; as if it was just yesterday that he was in space with both Dr. Strange and Mr. Stark.

It was confusing and sometimes, his head hurt. May tried to be gentle with him; assured him that with time, he would feel better.

He was afraid he would never. How was he supposed to when Mr. Stark is gone so soon after Peter returned? They were supposed to have more time.

"Petey," Morgan tugged on his sleeve and brought her voice down to a whisper. "There are so many people."

At the sound of her voice, so tiny and helpless, Peter knelt down in front of her. He laid a gentle arm on her shoulder and brushed her hair back, the way May had done for him countless of times to soothe him.

"It's okay. They're friends of your dad. They're here for him, too."

Her eyes were bright and shiny, watering. It made Peter looked around, anxious.

 _Please don't cry, Morgan, please don't cry._

As it was, Peter was already barely holding himself together. Being at Tony Stark's funeral was the last place he wanted to be. He should be with Mr. Stark in his lab, working on an upgrade for each of their suits. Mr. Stark should have been showing off the Rescue suit to Peter, so he could properly be in awe of his mentor, as if he wasn't already.

"I've never seen them before," she admitted, biting on her bottom lip. "Are they like you?"

It made Peter pause, wondering just how much Morgan knew of what transpired.

"Well… Yeah, we were all gone for a little bit, you know? But – But we're all back now. And we're here 'cause of Mr. Stark – your dad. So that's why – that's why we're here to pay …. We owe him and we all want to say goodbye."

"But I've never seen them before," she frowned.

"They're friends. I know you're feeling a little scared having all these strangers in your house but hey, look at me. You've never seen me before either, but you and I… We're okay right?" he tried his best to comfort her.

Her frown deepened.

"Daddy said you're a spider. He told me so," Morgan jutted her chin out stubbornly as if Peter might at any moment questioned her.

He blinked. _She knows me._

"He said you're an aven… avenger," she struggled a little with the word.

"He – He made me an avenger… on a space ship," Peter explained. "He told you about me?"

"Mhm," Morgan's face split into a smile as she nodded. "It's my favourite bed time story. I don't like his other stories. Yours is my favourite."

He reeled back, choking. Peter made a sound somewhere between a laugh and cry, trying to control his sudden burst of emotions.

Tony Stark told bedtime stories about _him_ to his daughter. Morgan knew about Spiderman because of her dad.

"Mommy said you're like me," she continued, oblivious to the barrage of emotion she had just unleashed. "Daddy's kids. But…" she trailed. "Mommy said he lost you so that's why I shouldn't play too far from the house or daddy will lose me too and it will make him sad. Like you made him sad."

"I - I made him sad?"

"Yup," she nodded. "Sometimes, in the kitchen, daddy will look at your picture and it makes him sad."

That explained it, Peter thought.

It explained the reason why, apart from Rhodey and Happy, Morgan seemed familiar with him. It was the reason why she was here calmly holding his hand and talking to him. She already knew him.

She grew up hearing stories about him; stories that Tony Stark told her to keep Peter alive in his memories.

Peter sat down, realising that now their position was reversed. _He_ would be the one telling Morgan stories about her own dad. And that was all she would have of him – stories to last her a lifetime.


	9. Catching Up

**Catching Up**

Peter always had nightmares, ever since his encounter with the Vulture. If he thought the longer he became Spiderman, the better he would be at handling his nightmares, he was wrong about it.

In the aftermath of the battle at the Avengers' compound, his dreams were vivid and bloody.

If the nightmares didn't keep him awake at night, the _what ifs_ certainly did. The battle was confusing – there were so many things happening at once and even with his enhanced senses, he could hardly keep track of where everyone was at any given time. Which meant, sometimes he lost track of where Mr. Stark was and if he had… Perhaps things could have been different.

Peter did the best he could, or at least, that was what Aunt May kept telling him. He did his best.

Yet, he couldn't help feeding into his anxiety and self-destructive thoughts, wondering if there was something he could have done that could have ensured his mentor's survival.

Or perhaps, he was destined to lose every single father figure he had.

 _Maybe –_

The thought caused Peter to sit bolt upright in bed.

Maybe _he_ was the problem. Maybe there was a part of him that was cursed.

Knowing that his attempts to take an afternoon nap was futile, Peter rolled out of bed with a sigh. He pushed open the window to let some fresh air in and stared hard at the mural someone had clearly just spray painted. He could _smell_ the fresh paint. It wasn't there this morning when he went to school but there, on a wall across from Peter's bedroom window was a painting of Iron Man mid-flight between two tall Manhattan skyscrapers.

His chest ached; a deep agony that would not go away no matter what he did. He couldn't even if he wanted to, everywhere he turned, he was reminded of Mr. Stark and his sacrifice. His death ensured the survival of so many others in this planet and beyond the galaxy.

Peter figured that by now, he should be used to loss but with each death, it became harder to keep himself fighting and afloat.

Closing the window, Peter left his room only to see the soft glow of the kitchen light against the opposite building's shadows.

"Hey," Peter called out gently so as not to startle Morgan and Aunt May. "What are you both doing sneaking around in the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon?"

" _You're_ sneaking," Morgan retorted with an adorable frown.

Smiling, Peter folded his arms and leaned against the door kitchen wall. He cocked his head to the side, "what do you have there, little monkey?"

"Crackers! Aunt May got it for me."

"Oh, did she? I got you sandwiches, Aunt May," Peter turned towards May, "and you didn't get me crackers?"

Laughing, May hit him lightly in the arm. "The both of you can share."

"Looks like you gotta split with me, Morgan," Peter grinned.

She extended the plate of cheese crackers to him, pulling back at the last minute and smiling cheekily. The second time she offered the plate to him, she waited until Peter took one and popped it in his mouth.

It wasn't Morgan's first time in their apartment in Queens. She would often come over whenever Aunt May is off from her shift and Ms Potts' presence was required in a meeting at Stark Industries. It was strange how life turned out, Peter thought. If Aunt May together with Mr. Stark and by that extension, Ms Potts, had co-parent him then Aunt May and Ms Potts were certainly doing the same with Morgan right now, with Peter somehow embracing the role of big brother. He thought Mr. Stark would have liked it. He would never be able to repay Mr. Stark for everything that he had done for him, but he could try with Morgan.

"Can we watch a movie, Pete?"

"Sure," Peter shrugged.

"How about … Aladdin?" Morgan asked hopefully.

A part of him really wanted to introduce Morgan to Stark Wars but he obliged to her request. He couldn't refuse her and she knew it too.

 _As long as she's enjoying herself,_ Peter mused as he listened to Morgan singing along to every song. She must have watched the movie again and again if she could have already memorised all the lyrics to the songs. Knowing that she was well occupied, Peter started on his homework.

"Prince Ali, mighty as he, Ali Ababwa – Peter, why aren't you singing with me?" she pouted. "Don't you know the song?"

"I – uh – yeah, I don't really know the song. How many times have you watched this movie, Morgan?"

"A lot," she answered, lifting up all ten fingers.

"Wow," Peter chuckled. "You must really like this movie. So, Aladdin's your favourite?"

"Yep. I used to watch with Daddy all the time. But his favourite is Moana. He told me."

Peter blinked at that unexpected piece of information. He tried to picture a scene with Mr. Stark and Morgan sitting in front of their television on a Saturday night watching Disney movies. He never pegged Mr. Stark for the Disney kind.

But then again, there was five years of Mr. Stark's life that Peter didn't know about.

Five years that he missed out.

He looked over at Morgan wistfully. He would have liked to see her as a new born baby. He had never been around babies or toddlers. If he had not been dusted by Thanos, he could have been there when Morgan was born; when she took her first step. His thoughts drifted further back. Peter wondered about Mr. Stark's wedding; if it was small and private, or if he had invited the Avengers that was left.

He should ask Ms. Potts about it. There must be photos. It was time he caught up on what he missed and he supposed, he could do some of the catching up with Morgan. She was always so curious and she always wanted to know more about her father.

Why shouldn't they start with the wedding?

* * *

 _Just more of Peter & Morgan :)_


End file.
